


That Semester At Pomona

by crazy_lune



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-08-16 14:04:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8105230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazy_lune/pseuds/crazy_lune
Summary: Harry decides to leave behind Wizarding Britain for some quiet time at a Muggle University– in the States! It can only be serendipity when none other than Draco Malfoy turns out to be his dorm mate. What shenanigans will these boys get up to?





	1. Chapter 1

Harry ran a hand through his messy hair nervously. His plastic keychain swung gently, the key having been hastily jammed into the lock on the door that stood between Harry and his future. Taking a deep breath to calm his jittery nerves, he picked up his trunk and pushed through the door into his new room. He had braced himself to find his roommate already moved in; someone who would greet him with absolutely no idea who he really was. Though one side was made up, bedcovers and all, there was no one in the room, much to Harry’s disappointment. He really just wanted to get the awkward introduction thing over with. Sighing, he dragged his trunk over to the empty side of the room. Not for the first time in his long journey from the gates of the Hall to his room, Harry cursed himself for insisting on bringing a _trunk_ of all things. He should have just listened to Hermione and bought a Muggle suitcase. Without magic, trunks were the most inconvenient things!

Sinking into his unmade bed, kicking his trunk under it, Harry wondered how this was going to play out– three years of Muggle University and then what? It’s not as though the Wizarding World would simply forget about him because he wasn’t around. Shacklebolt had very clearly hinted that there would be a place in the Auror Programme whenever he felt fit to return. Could he do it? Could he really be Muggle for that long? Could he really be away from the magic that hummed throughout the Wizarding Society? He wasn’t even in the same _country_ as his friends anymore! Merlin, what was he doing?

Groaning, Harry got up and gingerly locked (with both the key, and his wand for good measure) the door and closed the blinds. Wand in hand, Harry began unpacking, his stuff flying around the room and slotting into place: Clothes neatly folded in the cupboard, his books to the desk, and the sheets neatly wrapped around his mattress. Noting the posters on his roommate’s side, Harry wished he could put up some of his favourite Quidditch players– or maybe some talking portraits. As it were, Hermione got muggle pictures printed on shiny photo-paper for Harry of his parents, Sirius, Remus, and Teddy. Harry only put up the picture of Teddy, in an elegant frame that highly contrasted the goofy face his Godchild was making, upon his desk. The others were too painful to look at right then– a reminder of everything he’d left behind.  
  
“Yo! Open the door, man!” Came a loud voice, accompanied by pounding against the charmed door. Harry quickly stashed away his wand in the drawer of his desk, then crossed over to the door. He whispered “ _alohomora”_ while turning the key to unlock the door. He was hit in the chest with a calloused fist.

Making a strangled noise, Harry backed up quickly.

“Oh, I’m so sorry dude.” The boy said casually, giving Harry a half smile. “I’m Ed, by the way.” He stuck his hand out.

“Harry.” Harry replied, shaking Ed’s hand firmly. So this was his roommate–  
  
“Where’s your roomie, d’you know?” Ed asked, glancing around the room.  
  
“Uh, no clue, I’m afraid. I only just got here.” Harry replied, slightly deflated.  
  
“Oh, okay then.” Ed didn’t make to leave, so Harry left the door open and went back to his desk, arranging what was already neat.  
  
“What’s that accent? Bri’ish are we? Pip, pip Cheerio!” Ed joked good-naturedly, flashing Harry a brilliant grin.  
  
Smiling Harry replied, “Go Yankees?”  
  
Ed let out a barking laugh, doubling over.  
  
“You’re a funny one, Gov’ner!” He managed, he voice wheezy from his laughing.

“Er…” Harry grimaced, trying to think of something to say.

“Yo, ED!” Another voice came floating down hall, saving Harry from trying to come up with something Muggle to talk about.  
  
“Max, that you?” Ed called out.  
  
“Hey, Brian’s got FIFA all set up, you coming or not?” Max, presumably, said, poking his head into the room. He nodded casually in acknowledgement of Harry.  
  
“Coming. Catch you later, good sir!” Ed said, howling as he walked out of Harry’s room.  
  
“Sorry about him. He’s been at it,” Max gesticulated smoking “for a while now.”  
  
Harry simply nodded, having no clue why a cigarette would explain any of Ed’s hysteric behaviour.  
  
“You play?” Max asked, one arm on Ed’s shoulder, the other on the door.  
  
Harry shook his head no. Shrugging, Max turned to guide Ed towards wherever they were playing FIFA. Confused, lonely, and homesick, Harry flopped onto his bed thinking over the months that had lead up to his moving here, to Pomona College, California.  
  
It had been Ron’s idea to look for a college in the States. “Anything you fuck up, mate, you can just pass off as British! They won’t know the difference!” Ron had loudly proclaimed, admittedly a few drinks in, and then proceeded to burst into laughter. Hermione and Harry had just stared at him, contemplating the viability of this idea. Ron had been the most supportive of everyone, really. He helped Harry with his applications, packing and even watched a couple of Muggle films about University life. Hermione had helped too, of course. Essentially re-writing his application forms and re-packing his trunk, and giving him _real_ advice about what to expect (“There will _not_ be parties every night Harry!” and “That’s called a vending machine, for Merlin’s sake!” and “That’s not… turn off this disgusting video! Shame on the two of you! I can assure you, it won’t be like _this._ ”). Yet somehow Ron’s support had meant more, probably because he was pants at it. He hadn’t even blamed Harry when he and Ginny had broken up a few months ago.  
  
_Ginny_. Harry sighed, missing her– the familiarity of her. He new she’d love it here– the green grass and bright sunshine. The freckles along her nose and shoulders, and thighs; her flaming red hair that was silk to touch; her brilliant, radiant smile that made his heart skip a beat; all these memories welled up inside him, and for a moment he couldn’t remember why they had broken up.  
Should he really have come all the way to America?  
Yes, he had to.  
  
The nightmares, the fights, the coldness and frustration with which they spoke to each other the few months before they called it quits– Harry recalled it all in a flash. Everyone on the British Iles and most of Europe knew him. The paparazzi had been relentless. The owls, the offers to take on various positions at the ministry, the nightmares; he needed to get away from all of it. America had always been… aloof during The War. Harry hadn’t even known there was a significant population of Magic on this side. He had thought that the Muggles that hd founded the States had eradicated such traces in the 15 th century; apparently not all of it.  
  
The laughter in the corridor brought Harry back to his present feeling of loneliness. As the voices neared, he thought he recognised one particularly snobbish and derisive laugh.  
_Great,_ he thought bitterly, _I’m so homesick that I’m imagining Malfoy of all people._

When that familiar blonde head rounded the corner into the room, and slate grey eyes met vivid green, Harry fell off his bed.  
  
“Potter?” Draco Malfoy asked incredulous, gaping in a way that was very un-sophisticated of him.

  
Harry only groaned in response.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys have a confrontation at a random house party. Shots fired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies! 
> 
> I was really unhappy with this chapter so here it is updated, with a minor re-write. Let me know in the comment of any more scenes you'd like to see played out!
> 
> Also, thank you for the kudos and lovely comments! Reading through them really spurred me on (so please continue to do so!)
> 
> Cheers,  
> Lune
> 
> P.S. updated version of this chapter: 14/07/17

“Oi! Get off me!”

“Need I remind you, Potter, I was in this closet first.” Draco sneered, digging his knee purposefully into the other boy’s back. “You can sod off and find your own broom– ”

“Stop hogging all the space, Malfoy. I know your ego is big, but does it really need all that room?” Harry remarked, glaring into the darkness.

“As a matter of fact, it does.” Draco flicked Harry on his forehead.

“Ahhh!” exclaimed Harry, blinding swinging his arms about trying to hit Draco. He found his target easily, considering the small size of the closet they were hiding in.

“Stop that!” Exclaimed Draco, grabbing Harry’s wrists firmly. 

Grey eyes met defiant green in the dim light streaming from the party beyond the door. Harry could no longer tell if the rhythmic thumping was his heart or the bass from the loud trashy muggle music. Mouth dry, he swallowed quickly and pulled his hands away. Draco rubbed the forearm which had the dark mark absently. In silence the two boys awkwardly moved around, trying to get comfortable in the limited space. Harry ended up on the floor, leaning against a shelf of potent cleaning liquids– he shuddered to think what they might be used for. Draco was perched daintily on an overturned bucket– a sight Harry could never have imagined. Somehow, they managed to avoid touching each other.

“Er, don’t mind me, but what exactly are you doing in here, Malfoy?” Harry broke the stifling silence first. 

Draco only cleared his throat gruffly in response.

“Hiding from someone?” Harry decided to throw caution to the wind and attempted to joke with the roommate, with whom he hadn’t spent more than a few minutes since moving in three weeks ago. After all, they were both hiding from the thronging masses at a house party that Friday evening. 

A sigh.

“Something like that.” There was an edge to Draco’s voice that made Harry shut up.

Silence. 

“You?”

“Me what?”

“What are you doing here, you dimwit. I don’t presume Harry Potter hides out in closets simply to  pass time.”

“No, actually. I’ve spent more than enough time in a cupboard.” Harry replied tartly.

“I don’t want to hear about how you’re secretly gay, Potty. We’re not there yet.” Draco’s words were harsh.

“I’m not–” Harry began.

“Oh please. You might not know it yet, but–” Draco interrupted petulantly.

“I– I am not having this conversation with you,” Harry said irritably, berating himself because every time he tried to engage with Draco it ended up blowing up in his face like one of Hagrid’s Blast-ended Skrewts gone wild.

“So what are you doing in here?” Draco asked huffily, as though reluctant to admit he was curious.

“Oh… Er, I am avoiding someone as a matter of fact.” Harry grinned rather sheepishly into the darkness. He could only see the faint glow of Draco’s whiter-than-white hair and the occasional flash of teeth.

“Of course you’ve already got a fan club.” Draco scoffed.

“She’s not– never mind.” Harry sighed, mentally kicking himself for thinking things could be different just because there wasn’t a war going on. Malfoy was always a prick and would continue to be one. 

“Does she know you’re The Boy Who Lived? Or is there another title you prefer in America?” Draco sneered.

“Actually, nobody here knows about that,” Harry said, his patience disappearing quickly.

“Then why is she trying to get in your pants? It’s not like you’ve got much else going on.” Draco replied offhandedly.

“I’m fitter than you, you pompous tosser,” Harry growled.

“I can’t quite see past that hair. You could give Granger a run for her money.” Draco said, his white teeth flashing in a daring smile.

“You shut up about my friends, Malfoy!” Harry raised his voice. He heard Draco scoff, and that set him off. “By Merlin, you haven’t changed one bit, have you? The first words you’ve spoken to me in three weeks of _being roommates_ was to insult me? Sweet Circe, I’ve tried to start anew with you– and you always shut me down. You’d think after I helped keep you out of Azkaban, that you’d show some kind of gratitude. But no! You’re still the same old Malfoy, douchebag extraordinaire.”

Harry was breathing heavily, fists clenched at his sides. Somewhere in his rage he had stood up and was now looming over the other boy. For the second time, that night defiant eyes met. It was then, both boys staring the other down, faces mere inches apart, that Max yanked open the closet door. Light and sound flooded in, temporarily disorienting the two of them.

“Oops! _Occupado!_ ” giggled the girl on Max’s arm. She seemed pleasantly drunk and grinned knowingly at the two boys, who sprang apart awkwardly.  

“Heyyy! What are you guys doing in there?” Max asked, smirking and winking. 

Draco gave him a withering look and stepped out of the closet.

Harry, the more amiable of the two, smirked back at Max, nodding his chin towards the girl he had on his arm. “Nothing you two will get up to I’m sure.” Max and Harry laughed, while the girl smiled wickedly. Draco’s face remained impassive, but his neck had turned a shade redder. 

“I think I’ll head back now, Harry.” His voice came out strange. 

“Fine,” Harry said, his previous fury returning. While Max and the girl disappeared into the newly vacated closet, Harry stood awkwardly glaring at the back of Draco’s retreating figure. He watched as Draco politely excused himself from the party and headed towards the door. Harry stormed towards the kitchen, which had copious amounts of alcohol, and grabbed the first bottle he found. Cracking open the bottle named after Jack, Harry took a large swig, still glaring at the spot where Draco disappeared. 

 

Nursing his bottle, Harry stumbled out of the overcrowded house. He was dragged to this party by Max, only to have been abandoned within the first five minutes. He tried mingling, but he had never been a people person. A few drinks in, Harry was wondering why on earth he left all his friends. At least he could have picked someplace less… Muggle. Angrily drinking whatever he had in his hand, Harry stomped along the dimly lit road. There were gaggles of students scattered along the pavement, some throwing up, others giggling hysterically. The streets were lined with houses with strange Greek names, but it looked like all the occupants were at the one he just left. Confused, drunk, and angry, Harry stomped his way back to his residence hall. Or so he thought. A half hour later he was back on the same street next to the same group of kids retching into a garbage bin, his bottle empty. Harry gave up and sat on the kerb. He bent forward and pressed his head into his hands. Groaning, Harry remembered the last time he got this smashed. 

It was the night before his impending departure to America. They had all gone down to the Leaky– he, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Hannah, Seamus, Dean, Luna, even Ginny had joined them. They talked, laughed and reminisced. Three drinks in, each had taken a turn to quietly ask Harry why he was leaving. At one point Ginny teared up, thinking it was her fault. Five drinks down, they tried to convince Harry to stay. But come their eighth round, it was back to love and laughter with his close group of friends. It was a happiness and freedom that came from being drunk with the people you love and trust. 

Unlike right now, where the stench of vomit was overwhelming and the tarred road was swimming before Harry’s eyes. 

“Harry?” Max’s voice sent a ringing through his head.

“Mmmmph?” Harry muttered, barely able to move.

“Up you get, lil’ man,” Max chuckled, reaching to grab Harry under his arms to drag him his feet. 

“I feel sick” Harry mutter, leaning heavily on Max’s shoulder.

“Woah. I’ll bet,” Max exclaimed, getting the ripe whiff of the alcohol on Harry’s breath. “Come on then,” He continued.

“Where we gone?” Harry garbled, stumbling over his own feet.

“Home. To our dorm,”  pulling his odd British neighbour along back to their residence hall.

“Thaz not home,” Harry said grumpily, trying to pull away.

“I forgot, you’re British, home is across the sea,” Max said trying to placate this drunken boy he had taken responsibility of.

“Hogwarts is home. Ron and Hermione are home. The Burrow. Luna’s voice and Neville’s laugh. Seamus and Dean’s hugs. Ginny…” Harry trailed off.

“Hog- never mind. Ginny. Is that your ex?” Max asked gently.

“She was perfect. And I loved her. Max. I loved her,” Harry confessed, poking at his friend’s chest for emphasis.

“But like a sister. It was like having sex with your sister. Do you know how weird that felt? Do you?” Harry stopped in his tracks, shaking Max by the shoulders. The other boy looked thoroughly baffled by this turn of events. 

“Nope. Dunno what that’s like, man.” He said, patting Harry reassuringly on the back. “Come one, we’re almost there.” 

“It just… I miss it so much.” Harry said wistfully.

“Um… the awkward sex with your sister-like girlfriend?” Max asked jokingly.

“No!” Harry pouted. “I miss magic Max,” he whispered the confession.

“Aw, you’ll find love again, Harry. Don’t sweat it, man.” Max reassured him. His slip up brought Harry crashing down into painful sobriety. He was quiet the rest of the way.

They made it back without much incident. Harry refused to let go of his empty bottle of Jack, but apart from that little tiff, the journey was smooth and sobering. Max dropped Harry off outside his room with a small smile and pat on the head. Harry leant against the wall before entering his room. He had, of course, completely forgotten about his unfortunate roommate, until he opened the door and saw the other boy.

Draco Sodding Malfoy, a boy Harry had once known in a different world, was curled up in his bed of grey silk sheets, with a heavy book open on his lap. The lights were dimmed, but Harry could see him absently tracing the Dark Mark. 

“You,” Harry growled, taking a step into their room and slamming the door shut behind him. Draco looked up startled.

“What the hell are you even doing here, Malfoy? It’s like you’ve been sent to make this my own personal Azkaban.” Harry said loudly as he made his way unsteadily to his bed. 

“Had a bit too much to drink, have you? Someone call Skeeter. I can already see her next title, ‘The Boy Who Drank’” Draco replied with a sneer.

“I came here to escape the past, but I can’t do that with you as my roommate. You are _everything_ I’m trying to forget and move on from. Why are you here?!”

“That’s awfully rude, Potter,” Draco said quietly, all traces of snark and haughtiness gone from his voice.

“Yes, well,” Harry said, taken aback by this change in tone. “As are you.” He finished lamely, kicking off his shoes and sitting on his bed. Draco simply shrugged in response and turned back to his book. Harry watched Draco in the dim light of the table lamp. He noticed the sharpness of his features– his nose, jaw and chin. He noticed the dark circles under Draco’s eyes and wondered if he too had trouble sleeping at night. Harry found that amusing considering that, Draco being his roommate, he should know if the boy had trouble sleeping. But he didn’t. The potions Harry took every night had him in deep, dreamless sleep. They were the only things that had helped so far.

“I’m sorry,” Draco whispered, after a long, drawn-out silence. He spoke so softly that Harry wasn’t sure he heard right. He just sort of gaped at the other boy in response.

“There’s no need to look so shocked, Potter. I was raised to be a gentleman.” The return of Draco’s familiar snark brought Harry out of his stunned state.

“What are you apologising for?”

“I don’t know. For what I said just now… and the first time we met. Everything in between.” Draco tried for nonchalant but barely succeeded. 

“You’re sorry?” Harry asked incredulously. “Just like that, Draco Malfoy is _sorry_ …?”

“Yes. I believe I owe you that much,” Draco said, a small smirk played across his delicate features.

Harry let out a barking laugh, surprising both of them. Draco cracked a weak smile, more confused than amused, but still glad that he had made the other boy smile. When Harry didn’t stop laughing, Draco joined in, still confused, but significantly more amused.

Harry leant back against the wall and sighed deeply. “Who’d have thought we’d end up here, eh?”

“Mmm…” Draco replied absently. His eyes were bright as he took in the image of this messy-haired, green-eyed, _git._ The dull yellow street lamp outside gave interesting shadows to the planes of Harry’s face. His jawline was sharp and defined, as was his Adam’s apple, but those bright green eyes were as soft as ever. With a start, Draco realised he’d been staring. Clearing his throat he turned away from the boy whispering a mumbled good night. Quickly keeping away his book and turning off the table lamp, he dived under the covers out of embarrassment. 

Harry, in his drunken state, barely registered this turn of events. He was still lost in a pair of slate grey eyes that definitely did not belong to Ginny, his stomach churning at the thought. 

 


End file.
